From a different point of view
by Anathea55
Summary: What was Viserion thinking as he fell from the sky? What were his thoughts on the matter? Two really short one-shots from Viserion's perspective. I might make something out of it if people like it.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a short little thing I wrote from Viserion's perspective. I have no idea what goes through the head of a dragon, and my grammar is perhaps not the best, but give it a try and enjoy.**

Viserion was a dragon… and dragons were mighty.

That's what he had learned when growing up. At times, he'd even seen his own mother cower in fear of his brothers, but not Viserion, never him. He was good. He was kind, and he loved his mother. His mother whom he'd outgrown sooner than he had wished, his mother who looked nothing like him, who lacked everything a strong dragon should have. And yet, he loved her, because she was warm where others were cold. She sang him to sleep when no one was near, spoke to him in her strange tongue… so soft, so soothing.

If dragons could cry, he would.

He had yet to forget what she had done to him and Rhaegal when in the warmer lands. While Drogon flew freely over mountains, he himself had been chained underground in the dark. He had been angry, for deep down he knew that Drogon was closest to her heart; he knew that she loved him the most. It hurt, and when Viserion finally saw her face in that dark space below the earth, he had nearly hurt her in return. For that he was ashamed.

A mother shouldn't have favorites, he knew. He was angry, no… furious was the better word for what he felt, but hatred just wouldn't come. Even at her worst, he had loved her.

Viserion was good… he was. He wasn't strong like Drogon, nor fast like Rhaegal, but he was good. He had to be, for his brothers were not. They didn't seem to care about what they did, and while Viserion was no better, burning and destroying what he thought should not be, he had to be _good_. For his mother, he would be everything and more. He'd bring down stars and burn through the earth if she told him to.

Maybe he was weak, but though he was once small and fragile as a kitten, he had grown up now, and his mother was the fragile one.

He didn't deserve this, he was good. He told himself so over and over again, hoping that soon _she_ would see the truth as well.

His body hurt, his mind was slowing down and his lungs were burning as he sank through the water. And so, he closed his eyes knowing that he would never become what his mother wanted. He closed his eyes knowing that never again would they meet, and as his mind slowly faded into nothing, he only hoped that she would mourn his death, and know that he was good…

 **This was rather fun to write. I wanted to do a longer story from this perspective, but I wasn't sure if it was a good idea, nor am I sure if my writing is good enough to give it a try. I usually write quite long chapters so this was really short, but please tell me what you think and if I should continue :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**I honestly don't know what this is. Maybe I'll do a story in form of oneshots throughout his life? That would be fun, but until I decide, enjoy this short little thing I wrote.**

The wind was howling outside, and any other day, Viserion would have loved to join his brothers and play in the stormy weather. Rarely did they see such winds, powerful enough to bring trees to the ground, and rarely did they have to struggle just to keep soaring. There was an excitement to be found there, in the eye of the storm, where not even dragons were safe. It called out to them, appealed to their playful sides, always seeking out the danger to match their own ferocity. Yes, he would have loved to join his brothers, despite fearing he'd be swept away by the powerful winds. Any other day he would have, but not today.

Somehow, while his brothers had raced outside faster than lightning, he had stayed behind. And instead of going back to sleep, he had soon found himself curled up by his mother's feet near the fire, not quite sure of what he was waiting for.

She sat on the floor with him, staring into the flames before them with an expression he had never witnessed before, absently stroking his scales. Her eyes showed pain, but her lips were smiling softly. Viserion knew pain, how it made hearts ache and eyes see red, and he knew joy just as well. It was what he felt when flying, or sleeping in the sun. He also knew that most of the time, those two didn't mix. So what drove his mother to show such complex emotion, emotion that contradicted itself?

He wanted to know, though he did not have the slightest idea of how to ask. Such was the form of dragons, that he did not possess the soft-spoken tongue of humans. Such was his own throat, that all knowledge his wise mind possessed, only ever came out in the simplest form of growls. Listening to the strange words of his mother's kind, told him that humans spoke a language of such complexity he would never be able to replicate in his scaled form. Though, even if he could not speak, humans did know how to growl, and occasionally they seemed to prefer the rough ways of dragons to their own.

Viserion, who did nothing but growl, had always envied the mild tongue of humans, so it puzzled him to no end that humans would try to mimic his ferocity by free will. From time to time, he wondered if humans really knew what gift they had been blessed with. If he could speak, he would cherish that gift until the end of his days. He would tell his mother about the freedom of flying, as he knew she always watched him and his brothers in the sky. He would share stories, and tell the most beautiful tales. Perhaps, the ability to speak would have enabled him to ask his mother what was wrong…

He looked at her quietly, hoping that she would understand him even without words. Her soft eyes rose to meet his, a strange smile on her lips.

"Viserion." She called softly. "Would you come here for a second?" She held out her arm, letting his small body crawl up to her height.

Of course, he would listen, for though she did not understand him, he understood her with ease. With his tail safely wrapped around her forearm, he settled on the back of her hand, letting her hold him up to her height.

She smiled warmly, despite her pained expression.

"Have I ever told you about your name?" She asked him, not expecting an answer. Daenerys never did. Every time she spoke to her children it was a one-sided conversation, much like she was telling a story, or reading aloud from the pages of her life. She would speak to her dragons about secrets she would tell nobody else, and she would whisper in a sweet tone that often lulled Viserion to sleep at night so that in his dreams, he would imagine the things she told him about. If only she knew that he actually understood.

Unbeknownst to her, Viserion did want to answer. He wanted to know if he was the one who caused her mind such worry, and he wanted to know what his name had to do with it, but he could ask her nothing. All he could do was wait for her to tell him what she wanted, despite his many questions.

"You see." She spoke softly, slowly stroking his scales. "Your name once belonged to someone very dear to me. This person took care of me when I was young, despite being nearly as young himself." She explained. Her voice held the tone of a storyteller, though Viserion would not know that until many years later. "He always made sure that I was fed and clothed, sometimes ignoring his own hunger so that I would not starve. This person, in truth, was my blood, just like you are."

Viserion hummed deeply, urging her to go on with her story. What point she was getting to was unknown to him, and what it had to do with her sad smile made no more sense, but he was interested. What person was she talking about?

"His name was Viserys, and he was my brother." She revealed, and he listened with interest. "Much like you have Drogon and Rhaegal, I had him, and miss him to this day. He was kind to me, no matter what anyone tells you. He always put my wellbeing before his own, even though he knew that it would one day cost him his life." She seemed to have a problem telling this story, for she often went quiet between words. She would tell a sentence, and then sigh deeply, composing herself before trying to utter another sentence. It worried the small dragon, for he had never before seen a human act like this.

Indeed, he was wise. All dragons were said to be wise, but only if given the time to learn, and Viserion had not seen many days, so his intelligent mind was of no use as he tried to figure out why his mother acted this way.

"I wonder if his dreams of being king was his way of staying sane?" She asked out loud, leaving the question hanging while gently stroking Viserion's scales. She collected her thoughts. The small dragon wondered what she would tell him next. What happened to her brother? He couldn't imagine his own life without Drogon there to pester him, or Rhaegal dragging him wherever he went. It was such a big part of his life that losing just one of his family members would devastate him until the end of time.

"Viserion." She called once more, this time quietly. Her voice cracked just slightly, and tears began gently trailing down her cheeks as she continued to stroke his scales. This time she did not bother to compose herself. Still, she spoke the next words with security, despite her watery eyes. "My brother was kind, but he became cruel. I named you after him, because I loved him, because you are my future, and I want you to be what he could never become." While she spoke, Viserion carefully nudged her cheek with his nose, showing her that he understood, even if she didn't know. "Bear your name with pride, my sweet dragon. For you will carry his memory. When I am gone, and mountains appear meek next to you, remember that the beggar king gave you life, by making sure I lived."

His mother's face was pained as she cried, holding him closer. There was nothing else she could tell him, for Viserys had not been kind before his death. She couldn't tell her child more, for all she ever wanted him to know was that she had loved Viserys despite his cruelty. All she wanted him to know was that his name represented family.

He could hear her words echoing throughout his mind as he processed what she was saying. He could understand what she meant even though he was so young. Silently, he vowed to do just as she said. But even so, as she cried for her lost loved one, all Viserion could do was helplessly watch. Young as he was, he had never known loss, but on this very day he had learned something else: Even dragons can be helpless, and he could only pray that he would never experience the feeling again.

 **Tell me what you think :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm thinking of making this into a series of little snippets from the lives of our favorite GOT characters, starting with Daenerys, now that I have time. Beware though, the following chapter was written in 2017, and my writing has improved since then. If I do continue writing, I hope any future chapters will contain more dialogue and better grammar.**

 **This chapter I wrote almost two years ago follows Dany's perspective and thoughts about her dragons throughout the seasons, ending in season 7. Her personality may not be spot on, but I hope I did well enough.**

 **Note that English isn't my first language, so I'm practicing my writing on you guys. Feel free to give any critique you might have. It would mean a lot. Moving on from that, please enjoy!**

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Daenerys loved her children. She truly did, or so she told herself. For who would ever love a beast if not even it's mother could? From the very day they had been born, she had been by their side watching, protecting. Not once in their first year had she left their side. They were her blood and her family, her only family, and she would sooner die than let anything harm them, or so she told herself. They were beautiful. They were hers. She would protect them and raise them as her own, even though they had not come from her body, for it was the right thing to do.

Between the death of her husband, and the birth of her new children, she had suffered. Even before then… she had always suffered. Pain had been a constant factor in her life, in many ways, but the dragons brought no pain, and for that she loved them. She loved them so much that she sung them soft lullabies at night, told them stories and spoiled them rotten, for fate had taken her first son and it would not take the others from her.

Perhaps she had come to think of of them as her children only because she had been grieving her firstborn? Perhaps she had never intended to love them the way she did? Little did it matter. Daenerys was a mother of dragons, and to protect a dragon she would be a dragon, even if her current form was weak. She had always known that her children would outgrow her, and then she would be even weaker. She did not deny it, but even so, for as long as they were small and fragile, she would protect them as well as she could.

There had been times when she feared for their lives, when she feared she had failed them. The house of the undying was one of the worst moments of her life, and Dany had more than a few painful memories to choose from. That time, she had thrown caution to the wind in panic, anger and sorrow. Had her children died there, she was certain that she would have gone with them, because she cared for them more than she had ever cared for anyone.

Yes, she loved her children. She loved them so much that she would destroy the world and then herself if it meant their safety. They were all she had. Even with the world within the palm of her hand, all she would ever have was the love of her darlings. Even if she stood on top of the world with every lord beneath her feet, it did not measure up to how she felt, for what was power if not a way to ensure that her family would be allowed to live? She understood that now.

Power… Her brother had been obsessed with it his whole life, and she had resented him for it, but now she knew. If you had power, no one could hurt you. If you had power, your family would never be in danger. All she wanted was their safety. Daenerys had never been welcomed anywhere because of her lineage, but with a crown on her head she could not be refused, nor could her children. Because of that, she fought not only for her own place in the world, but also for theirs.

Yes, she fought for them, but it was evident that it would not always be needed. They had already outgrown her, and they would surely outlive her as well. Very soon they would realize that they could tower over the tallest man with ease, and very soon they would discover that their mother held not even half of the authority she spoke to them with. Would they listen to her then? Would they still love her as children love their mothers?

It was a frightening thing, indeed, to think that after her death there would be no one to control these beasts. Though, Daenerys doubted she could even do that now. She always had an inkling that in their current forms, they only listened to her out of respect. If they grew even larger, would they simply crush her with their claws if she demanded too much?

If there was anything this queen wanted in life, it was control. And if there ever was a thing in this life she feared, it was losing that control. She hated to admit it, but at times she feared her children. Her own thoughts were no different than the thoughts of the commoners whose cattle they stole, or the mothers whose children they burned. Despite knowing that they currently did as she said, there was always that lingering feeling that they could turn around at any moment and become a true danger. Dragons were not tame, after all. Deep down in her very core, she knew that they would never hurt her, never for as long as she would live, but that could never stop them from destroying everything else should they one day wish it.

She had been blinded by her love for them, and it was a dangerous thing, for as they grew and grew, so did their hunger, and the more they fed, the larger they became. Her subjects feared them and called them monsters. They pleaded with her to chain them away, and Daenerys had to listen. She did not want to, but what could she do? Her own firstborn had been taken from her, so she understood the mothers who pleaded at her feet. She understood the desperation, the heart wrenching sorrow, and she suffered with them. Her dragons were monsters. It could not be denied.

She held no doubt in her heart that they loved her, and yet likewise she held no doubt that if the dragons wanted to eat, she could not stop them. If they wanted to prey on children instead of sheep, they would do so, and if the day ever came where they wanted to tear down kingdoms, they would not listen to her. The day had come where she was powerless, where she first started to fear.

Rhaegal and Viserion they had been able to restrain, but not her Drogon. The shadow of death, they called him. The most dangerous of the three, her most beloved, and she could not tame him. When months passed, and he had yet to return, she had begun to doubt that he had ever loved her. Perhaps this was his escape from her? If she let his brothers go, would they leave her too? She knew that it was cruel to keep them chained up, but if she lost them… Daenerys dared not think of it, nor did she want to.

Despite what the world thought of her, Daenerys was not quite so fierce as she made herself out to be, and the responsibility resting on her shoulders weighed just the same as three large beasts. If Drogon killed, if he burned, if he destroyed whatever caught his attention, the blame would be hers. She could not chain him, nor could she control him, and yet the weight of his sins was hers to carry. As their parent it was her wrongdoing if the dragons did something wrong, and it would not be them but her who had to repent, and that she would do. Over and over she would correct their mistakes, for the ferocity was in their nature and she refused to deny them that, despite the burden it put on her shoulders.

She had chained them once, and never again would she restrain them. Daenerys held perhaps the only voice in the world that her children listened to, and while she knew that they only did so out of love and respect, she refused to abuse that power further. She would suffer if it meant their wellbeing, and she would carry their sins, for Daenerys was not just a queen; she was a mother. Chaining her children beneath the earth had turned out to be a mistake, and she had Tyrion to thank for setting them free when he did. She had not asked it of him, and yet he did. For that she would forever be grateful.

Had he not released them when he did, they might have never seen the sunlight again. Even with all the Dothraki and unsullied, they could have very well lost against the masters, and then her children's blood would be on her. She had been foolish, so very foolish and afraid that she had put them in danger when she thought she was keeping them safe, keeping everyone safe. No matter how far she went, how many battles she won, or how many slaves she freed, she was always afraid. No one had seen her cower since her brother died, she hadn't let herself, but there was always that feeling in the back of her heart. It filled her up with doubt, dragged her down, down and further down into the darkness she could not escape… not alone.

She was glad she had Drogon by her side, and Rhaegal and Viserion. Had they not hatched all those moons ago, when the love of her life left her, the dragon in her own heart might have never awakened. She might have never had the true courage to sail home, home to a place she had dreamed about since she was a child. She might have never set foot in Dragonstone, and she might have never met Jon snow.

It was laughable really, their first interaction. It had been blatantly obvious that he did not respect her as a queen, and Daenerys had been so flabbergasted that she could not help but disrespect him in return. Their conversation had been stiff and awkward, and she had spent many hours debating on what she should do with this "king of the north". She did not doubt that her children knew of her bitter attitude toward this man, and she could not deny that some of that irritation might have transferred onto Drogon, whom she often flew with in times of distress. Her darling son did, after all, know her better than anyone, and because of that, he often tended to mirror her emotions.

Because of _that_ , it should have been no surprise that when Drogon flew her over Dragonstone and spotted him, he decided to take a nosedive. It also shouldn't have been a surprise that her son was fully intending to eat him for being such a thorn in his mother's side, but it was. Daenerys hadn't been able to see where he was headed before it was too late, and small as she was on his back, there was nothing she could do. Few times in her life had she ever been so scared, not for her own life but for another's, and there was little to no time to react. Daenerys was helpless as they landed roughly on the ground and for a brief moment, she saw nothing. Then, the scaly beast started running, swishing his tail and growling from deep within his core.

This was it, then. No more Jon Snow. She should be thrilled that Drogon wanted to help her, thrilled to be rid of that menace, and yet, she couldn't help but panic. For only that brief moment, she was certain that the king would die. Her child would gobble him up whole and let him rot within his stomach. Then, she would have to go to war against the northerners as well as Cercei. A good man would be dead, and more blood would be on her hands.

She should have known better. He did roar, ferociously so, but no more than that, and Jon never wavered. The man simply had to be suicidal to not only stand his ground without blinking, but to also reach out a hand to the beast. Had she not known her own son any better, she would've imagined him chopping it right off his arm, but Drogon was no fool. He must've known that she, for whatever reason, did not want this man dead. He probably also knew why, even though Dany herself did not.

In the future, if the queen was asked about the occurrence, she would smile and shrug, saying that the man was never in any danger. She would laugh it off as her children trying to scare him, rebellious as they sometimes were. Her other two sons had not been daring enough to take such a direct approach, but they were also not as fierce. Deep within her heart, in a corner she dared not touch, behind all the smiles and laughs, still lingered the brief moment of fear she had felt that day. The fear that would not go away, even after years would come to pass, for she did truly not know what Drogon had intended to do. She still didn't, despite all the lies. If the dragons ever decided to tear down kingdoms, she could not stop them. If they decided to kill her, little could be done. For all the power she claimed to have, little of it was truly hers.

Yes, Daenerys loved her children, as any mother should. She had raised them and risked her own life for their safety, because she loved them. Over and over again would she do it, no matter who it destroyed in the process, for they were her own. But as children often do, they grew, and they did not need her anymore. They did not listen, and they were no longer hers. Yes, she loved her children, but even as their mother, she could not deny that she feared them.

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 **Remember to tell me your thoughts! Your opinion matters :)**


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